


For the World

by StolenMidnightKisses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter is a Horcrux, One-Sided Attraction, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 21:23:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenMidnightKisses/pseuds/StolenMidnightKisses
Summary: The horcrux in Harry Potter sacrificed itself against Voldemorts Killing Curse in the final battle so Harry could live.And here's why.





	For the World

Voldemort struggled to open his eyes. It was cold, and dark, wherever he was. And he simultaneously felt the most tired and well rested he had ever felt in his life.

It was cold being dead, he decided.

He remembered the cold of the orphanage and how similar this cold was, almost malevolent. It flocked, paused and renewed gathering around him as if trying to find a way inflict the most pain possible.

He wondered if this was hell for a moment, the thought flicking through his mind along with the face of the Priest that had exorcised him as a child, but he felt himself flying higher, exhaustion once again claiming him (did exhaustion even exist if he was dead?) , and almost let himself drift off, before the atmosphere shifted.

If before he had been floating in a somewhat unidentifiable void, he was now somewhere much more tangible. He felt gravity press in on his bones again, and it was a strange feeling after floating in nothingness for a period of time.

The floor was cold beneath him, cold and hard and tiled. And he was curled around on himself, naked and skeletal thin the way he had been when he had watched through Harry when Wormtail tossed his main souls body into a cauldron.

He heard footsteps and he made an effort to open his eyes, though he could not remember how. It had been 17 years, after all, since he had had a corporal form. He did however make somewhat of a groan and he heard Harry's voice asking what he was and Dumbledore replying that he could not be helped. He wanted to scream in frustration but he was too tired. It made a certain amount of sense that his hell would contain both Dumbledore, a man he used to despise and Harry, a man he learnt to love, impossible not to when he had been surrounded by his soul as he had been for years.

He heard something about having to chose what train Harry boarded on and he suddenly remembered the forest and poor, brave, brave Harry walking to his death and facing a man that Voldemort could no longer coincide with himself. He remembered the killing curse and knowing that he would take it for Harry, so Harry's soul could live.

He once again tried to move, scream, kick, do anything that could attract Harry's attention and tell him to choose the train taking him back to life, but death was cruel and it seemed like his only role was to be an object in Harry's death scene, for he could no longer move nor produce the pitiful noise he had emitted before.

It was the most powerless Voldemort had ever felt.

But some God or deity had heard his desperate plea and Harry boarded the train to life, and Voldemort could weep with joy knowing that Harry was okay. He was prepared to once again go back to the cold void and live in it in eternity, content with that knowledge.

Perhaps death was being kind allowing him to see the consequences of dying for Harry.

And that was a pair of very dumbledore like shoes walking towards him and pausing before Dumbledore crouched down to his level on the floor and said "Hello Tom."

Scratch that, death was not kind.

Voldemort had half a mind to simply play dead or something like that until Dumbledore got the hint and moved on because he was not in the mood to confess that Dumbledore had been right all along-

Only for the station to dissolve under his feet and be deposited beside a version of the Black Lake near Hogwarts.

He looked more human now, he had the pale pianists hands that he had had in his early youth before his rituals had emancipated him and turned his hands skeletal and horrid. He was also, quite appropriately for the scene and the age of his body, dressed in his old school uniform, down to the small hole he had had on his left wrist from worrying at the fabric too much.

The whole scene was beautiful. He had missed the Hogwarts of his school days and indeed too his school day body.

The only thing that made it less beautiful was dumbledore sitting beside him, looking at him with a small smile in his face as if he knew exactly what Voldemort was thinking.

The old coot probably knew * _exactly_ * what Voldemort was thinking. He had always been good at that.

Much could be said about Voldemort but he always tried to follow social customers and so simply replied "Hello Dumbledore."

Dumbledore should give him some credit, at least he didn't call him old man. And in part it was perhaps his nod towards the fact that dumbledore had been right indeed. Love was a powerful thing.

"Tom" Dumbledore said again, and Voldemort rather felt like bashing his head against the willow tree he was currently sitting on and leaning against.

Of course he would be stuck in death with dumbledore. Of course.

But then he paused and looked out at the black lake. And remembered everything he actually owed dumbledore for and decided, this once, to try to be patient and civil.

And so with his mind made up he started to talk.

"I thought I was dead at first, you know. I remembered a child staring at me with these green eyes, not crying, just staring at me, almost condemning me for my actions in life and I felt more unsettled than I ever had. And as much as you liked to preach that I was some sort of heartless bastard," Tom snorted, keeping his gaze fixed on the lake before him, "I actually felt a moment of sadness for the child. I had always tried to avoid killing them simply because I remembered myself in every single one of them and how powerless I would have been if someone had come into the orphanage to come and kill me. I always felt that I should let them grow up and have a fighting chance against me at least before I killed them."

He could sense Dumbledore turning his gaze toward the lake too, a small smile on his face as if he was delighted about the fact that he was wrong about Voldemort in some respect and that he'd cared for the lives of children.

"But I'd lived through many things as a child Dumbledore. Many things that could have been avoided. Almost dying from hunger and cold on some occasions in the orphanage. The threat of death that the other children and the staff gave me. Living through the blitz not knowing if I was going to die. Not knowing if I would ever be able to use my intelligence and make a mark upon the world. And all of that manifested into a desire for immortality, which you already know."

Dumbledore simply nodded, his expression grave and sad "the horcruxes."

"Yes." Voldemort breathed, and then leant forward, putting his elbows on his knees and leaning on them. "And so I suppose you understand why the thought that the child might one day kill me which led to my pointing my wand at him."

Dumbledore said "I know. I tried to protect him from you."

"You made a valiant effort too." Voldemort replied, then continued. "But I found them and then the rest is history. But despite remembering the killing curse rebounding back at me, I awoke, in a smokey void. I though I was dead. By soon I found out I wasn't. I was in an entirely different place."

"Harry's soul" Dumbledore whispered with a sad tone of voice and Voldemort turned to him, looking into his blue eyes that he had hated so much as a child and now felt nothing more than a weary acceptance for.

"And what a beautiful soul it was. Despite everything that Harry faced, how unloved he was by his aunt and uncle, his soul flourished. And I forgot about ambition and power and wanting to rule Britain. I was enthralled by this beautiful innocent thing that wrapped round me and comforted me and _accepted_ me unconditionally. And just as it loved me, I soon found myself trying to guide Harry to help him, to let him know he wasn't alone. I desperately tried to make sure that Harry grew up differently from the way I did. In the early days I perhaps wanted to selfishly preserve this sanctuary I found but later..." Voldemort dropped off, his eyes finding Dumbledores' again and he knew that dumbledore saw ever single emotion he had towards Harry in them.

"I tried to help Harry you know. First year I helped burn Quirrell. Second year I told Harry to stab the diary with the Basilisk fang. Third I spurred him into action to cast the patronus against the Dementors. And so it continued. I suppose in a way I was sabotaging myself. The one person I thought I'd always treasure above all others."

"You love him."

It was a gentle whisper, bearly there and yet it seemed to echo all around Voldemort until it fused with his very being.

"Yes."

There was silence for a moment and Voldemort staunchly looked down and refused to meet Dumbledores' eyes. He didn't know what he expected. Perhaps a sardonic laugh and a 'you know children concieved under Amoretia can't love, Tom' but instead he got a warm hand on his shoulder. He held his breath. He couldn't remember a time when someone had lay a hand on him without meaning to hurt or manipulate and it was... Strange.

He slowly looked up and Dumbledore was looking at him with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry Tom. I seem to have underestimated you. I was wrong Tom. I was wrong about you. And I'm sorry that in Hogwarts that I never gave you the warm hand you needed to flourish and instead always turned away. I regret three things in life Tom. Only three. One was sending poor Harry to his death, and having to put all the pressure in him throughout the years although I tried my hardest to let him have the easiest life he could. Two, is my sister, which I suppose you know about." Tom could only nod "And three Tom, is how I treated you."

Voldemort felt... Broken perhaps. His heart felt painful. "Thank you." He whispered and he realised how much lighter he suddenly felt. Dumbledore, regretted treating him the way he did. He was sorry. Voldemort honestly felt as if he had subconsciously waited 60 years to hear those words and hearing them was more than he could have ever imagined.

"And I'm truly sorry Tom that love was so cruel to you and Harry could never appreciate all that you did for him."

"Cruel?" Tom asked with a scoff. "No not cruel, Dumbledore, perhaps the most beautiful thing I ever got to experience in my life. I wouldn't trade it for the world. Not for power, fame, immortality. Harry have me the most beautiful gift of all and I never want to give it back. Not for the world."

They stayed in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts and staring out towards the lake. And Voldemort let go all of the could-haves and what-ifs that had haunted him for life and found himself at a vague approximation of true peace.

There was a slight quake in the ground and the already insubstantial looking scene began to dissolve around them as they sat, jarring Voldemort out of his thoughts.

Dumbledore stood up and offered a hand to Tom, which Voldemort took.

"I do believe that is all the time we have allotted Tom. Thank you for the chat, i do believe that i feel a lighter man than i ever was! Would you like a lemon drop Tom?"

Of course Dumbledore would have his lemon drops even in death. Voldemort accepted one with minimal eye rolling, first time for everything after all.

The beam Dumbledore gave him made him grimace as he opened it an put it in his mouth. Dumbledore simply laughed again and patted him on his back.

"Well, are you ready for the next great adventure Tom? Who know, perhaps we may see eachother again, though I daresay that we wouldn't recognize eachother."

And so with the taste of lemon in his mouth, a man he had once swore to hate beside him and the love Harry taught him in his heart he stepped off into the unknown.

But he was not afraid.  
  



End file.
